Troubled
by Cookies and Ink
Summary: Newt is a squib. That doesn't define him.


**Troubled**

* * *

When Newt was a young boy, barely twelve and still devastated that his Hogwarts letter hadn't arrived, he heard something that changed his life.

"Such a shame about the Scamander boy. A squib, despite the family's good breeding. Now, it's not as if he's any better than a beast. No good for anything but potions ingredients."

All his life, Newt had thought that creatures were better than humans. This confirmed it for him. Perhaps being a squib wasn't so bad, if he was just as good as Fido, his hippogriff, or Echo, his kneazle.

But he didn't think any animals deserved to become potions ingredients. On that day, he decided he would save as many creatures as he could, magic or no magic. Even if he was a squib, it wouldn't stop him from helping those that needed it the most.

* * *

"Newt, what on earth is that in your hands?"

Newt blinked, looking up from his inspection of Beatrice, his newest creature. She was a stunning specimen of occamy, with eyes the colour of burnt gold that gleamed like starlight, and iridescent scales of electric blue and violet that shimmered as she moved.

Theseus stood in the portal between Newt's wildlife preserve and Newt's house, his hands on his hips. Newt had various wards and alarms set up to stop his creatures from escaping, but nothing to keep fellow humans out other than a lock on the front door; Theseus must have let himself in. It was nice to see him. Last Newt had heard, Theseus had been fighting on the front-line, a regular war hero.

"Beatrice," Newt answered, turning back to her. He scooped a cricket out from a jar and flicked it into the air. Beatrice snapped it up in a quick, decisive movement.

"That tells me nothing," Theseus replied. "Why do you always have to find yourself some sort of trouble, Newt?"

At that, Newt looked up again, flashing Theseus a grin. "I don't go looking for trouble, but I do enjoy befriending it." He scratched behind Beatrice's wings and she spread them, screeching in joy. "This lovely troublemaker here is pregnant, actually. So, really, she's trouble magnified by five."

Theseus groaned. "I go away for six months and this happens." He gestured around preserve. "How did you manage to create a space like this? Wasn't this your garden, before I left? I don't remember it being this big."

Newt frowned. "Just because I'm squib doesn't mean that I'm no good at herbology. And I called in Dumbledore's favour for sorting out his Jarvey problem. He expanded the garden for me." Newt stood and gestured around him. The habitat they were currently in had been cultivated to appear like an Indian rainforest. Trees towered above them, forming a dense canopy of emerald green, bursts of bright colour flowered in the bushes, and birds and monkeys darted through the foliage. "Look! He enchanted several different habitats for me. There's twelve different spaces in here, all with different temperatures and humidities. Over there, you'll find the mooncalves that were causing trouble on the French border in a night-time terrain specifically designed for them. Dumbledore got them transported over to me and I'm looking after them now."

Beatrice hissed, perhaps annoyed that something else had taken up his attention. Newt smiled, reaching down to scoop her up and settle her around his neck. Her head swayed around so that she could inspect him, her burnt gold eyes curiously intelligent. Newt had always thought that creatures understood a lot more of the world around them than they were given credit for.

"This is impressive," Theseus said, sounding reluctantly impressed. Newt turned to face him, properly inspecting him.

Theseus looked tired. There were dark shadows under his eyes and a weariness in his gaze that had been absent before the start of the war. His uniform looked as if it had been subject to several Mending Charms and there was a scar curving down the side of his face that Newt didn't know the origins of.

"You know, for the first time, I'm almost jealous of you," Theseus said. "At least you don't have to join in the fighting. It's brutal, out there."

Newt ducked his head, stroking a hand along Beatrice's neck. A strange mix of emotions churned in his stomach. He'd long since accepted the realities of being a squib, but he still ached to know what it would feel like to pick up a wand and cast a spell. Beatrice chirped, brushing her face against his, fluttering her wings against his shoulders.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Newt. I'm an utter bastard. Look, I'm not here to cause trouble. I just wanted to see my baby brother."

If it had been anyone else, Newt would likely have encouraged them to leave. But it was Theseus and he looked as if he needed somewhere safe, just like Newt's creatures did.

"It's alright." Newt forced a crooked smile upon his face. "I like I said, I like befriending trouble."

"Is there anything I can do to help? I'm sure Dumbledore's done a brilliant job, better than I could, but are there any loose ends that need tidying up?"

Theseus's eyes were wide, pleading. Work that wasn't the war would likely do him good. Newt glanced around, taking in the barriers that separated the different enclosures. The water enclosure was the one that needed the most improvement. The kelpies didn't have enough space and they kept quarrelling with the grindylows.

"Do you think you can charm the water to form independent bubbles for each of these creatures. Make them weightless? I can't fill this enclosure with any more water, but there's all this unused airspace If they could float around, I think they'd be much happier."

"I'll do my best," Theseus promised, striding forward with his wand raised.

Newt nodded and began feeding the bowtruckles.

"So, tell me about the war," he said. "Or tell me about how you are, Theseus."

There was a long silence, disturbed only by the squawking of birds and the buzz of insects. Newt hummed to himself, trying to teach Beatrice some tricks. He'd managed to get her to wrap around his arm when Theseus spoke.

"As I said, it's brutal. Grindelwald's got an army of fanatics and they're gaining ground each day. We're going to have to do something drastic to stop him. The Minister was even talking about trying to bring dragons in." Theseus huffed a laugh. "I told him it would be a disaster. Keep your head down, Newt. Don't let anyone know how good you are with creatures, or you might find yourself conscribed against your will."

Newt swallowed. He'd never heard of a worse idea than using dragons to win a war. The poor creatures would be terrified and would be just as likely to attack those caring for them as the enemy.

As Theseus rambled on, glaring into the murky depths of the lake as he enchanted bubbles of water for the grindylows, Newt let him talk, interjecting only to clarify points of interest or add noncommital hums. It seemed cathartic, as the tension in Theseus's shoulders slowly began to give way to to a drooping weariness. It was as Theseus began to talk about a woman he'd met, one of the spymasters, that Newt saw him truly relax. He obviously needed this break. Newt smiled and Beatrice wound around his neck, nibbling on his ear before trilling quietly in what Newt took as agreement.

In truth, while Theseus liked to call the creatures that Newt befriended trouble, he was the one who needed help the most. Newt didn't need any magic to provide Theseus with a place to rest, and for Newt? That was no trouble at all.

* * *

_Word Count: 1296_

_Chaser 3 Round 11QLFC Prompt: A character never had any powers to begin with._

_Optional Prompts:_

_6\. (dialogue) "I don't go looking for trouble, but I do enjoy befriending it."_

_12\. (magical creature) Occamy_

_15\. (emotion) Jealousy_


End file.
